


Leather Bound

by LynnyMars



Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV)
Genre: 1990s, Alex Overthinks, Alex is out to the band but not at home, Anxiety, Bobby Friendly, Brief Reference to Sexual Activities, Coming Out, Explicit Language, Happy Ending, Homophobia, Homophobic Slurs, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, Internalized Homophobia, Kissing, M/M, Pining, Pre-Canon, Romance, Some of these tags make it sound dark but I promise it's not all doom and gloom, family violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:48:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27637063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LynnyMars/pseuds/LynnyMars
Summary: “How does it look?” Reggie twirls slowly with his arms out, making the fabric of the red flannel tied around his waist sway across his legs.And Alex’s brain just decides to stop working.Because Reggie washot.Not cute. Not adorable.Hot.He was all dark hair, light complexion, pouty lips, andthat jacket.~OR: Alex buys Reggie a leather jacket as a birthday gift. Turns out it’s a gift for himself.
Relationships: Alex Mercer/Reggie Peters, Alex/Reggie (Julie and The Phantoms), Past Alex Mercer/Luke Patterson, Past Alex/Luke Patterson
Comments: 172
Kudos: 489
Collections: Kelly's Picks





	1. The Gift

“Did you even get any cake in your mouth?” Alex sounds judgmental. It’s because he’s judging.

Reggie’s been trying to lick frosting off of his own elbow for a full minute. He almost walks off the sidewalk and into a stop sign, but Alex yanks him back by the pocket of his skinny jeans.

“Would this count?” Reggie sticks his tongue out for the icing, twisting his arm at an unnatural angle. He’s unfazed by Alex’s heroic efforts. The bassist was lucky it was his birthday, Alex decides, otherwise he would have let him swerve his shin into the upcoming bus-stop bench. 

Reggie was the last of Sunset Curve to turn sixteen. The band had celebrated all day at the pier, and Reggie started a cake fight with Luke, which Alex had to finish—and win—while Bobby distracted a security guard. They couldn’t afford to be trespassed from the beach front. They made good money there playing for tips.

“Got it!” Reggie celebrates, giving Alex a chocolatey smile.

“Congrats.”

At least Reggie was actually clean now. Alex made them all change clothes at the studio before they disbanded for the evening. He was going to be stepping in cake crumbs for the next three rehearsals. Bobby had disappeared into his house for family dinner, and Luke rode off on his bike after giving Reggie sixteen sloppy kisses on his face. That left Alex and Reggie to stroll down the sidewalk together as the sun disappeared below the horizon.

“You wanna come to my place for dinner?” Alex nudges his shoulder into Reggie’s. “We can listen to your present together…”

Alex feels bad when they reach the intersection where he and Reggie would usually split. The boy hesitates longer than usual, eyes darting out towards the sky beyond the beach. It seems he’s already forgotten his triumph, saliva drying on his elbow where the frosting had been. Reggie hadn’t mentioned his parents all day. Sixteen was supposed to be sweet, and Alex guesses Reggie’s parents forgot it anyway, but he’s got a surprise that could make it a little extra special. 

“Come on.” Alex stuffs his hands into his pockets and walks in the direction of his neighborhood, not waiting to see if Reggie was going to follow. “You got the tape?” he calls over his shoulder. Reggie scrambles to catch up.

“Of course, dude.” Reggie pulls it from his pocket. Alex spots greasy fingerprints on the cover as Reggie flips it over in his hands. It was more than likely frosting-related, but, whatever, it belonged to his friend now. 

Alex gave him the new cassette, _Buddha,_ for his birthday _._ It was by an up-and-coming band named Blink. He and Reggie had been jamming in the garage last fall, waiting for Luke and Bobby to finish their stints in detention for ditching fourth period to smoke under the bleachers, when “Carousel” played on the radio. Reggie had _lost his mind._

“The bassline is sick, Alex!” Reggie had screamed and ran over to the radio as if he could hear it better two feet closer. Alex thought he was going to blow his ear drums out.

The reception on the station was shit, and Reggie never got to hear the broadcaster say the name of the band or the song before it fuzzed out too badly, so he had moped about it for the entire weekend.

Alex, ever the resourceful one, had called the station to inquire about the track. It was mostly because he was curious, too—the sound was fun—and a little because he hated seeing Reggie pout. As it turned out, Alex had to be patient himself. The tape was hard to find in any of their local spots, but he scored it in San Diego when his parents took him on a trip over winter break. He had to duck into the music shop by himself while his mom and dad were at the nearest tourist trap. His mother would have smothered him with opinions over his music taste. The older he got, the more she talked about his “purity.” He wasn’t going to have that conversation in a music store. Some places were sacred.

“Your mom and dad won’t mind me just showing up?” Reggie’s nervous, tapping the tips of his fingers together. 

“No, my parents love you, Reg. They think you’re a sweetheart.” 

“I _am_ a sweetheart,” Reggie says it so proudly, and Alex is happy that he knows it’s true.

He rolls his eyes anyway, just to keep Reggie’s ego in check.

They have a nice dinner. His mother makes a roast, and Reggie thanks her profusely, even though Alex’s mom had made much bigger meals for less. Alex almost makes a _Stepford Wives_ joke when his mom gets out the good china “for their guest” but he holds his tongue. That book would have positively not been on his approved reading list. Ira Levin also wrote _Rosemary’s Baby_ , and his dad had smacked him upside his head with that one when he saw it on his nightstand. At least it was a soft cover. He made Alex get rid of it before his mother saw it. 

“Can we listen to the record now?”

Reggie waits to ask until well after dinner, after Alex’s parents retreat upstairs. The soundproofing in his basement-bedroom was optimal to play whatever they wanted as long as Alex kept his door shut.

“Sure, Reg.” Alex fiddles with his drum sticks in his spot on the floor against his bed. “Before that, though, I—uh, I have one more gift for you.”

Maybe he shouldn’t have done it. It was too expensive, which was the main reason he hadn’t given it to Reggie earlier in the day with the tape in front of the guys. He knew he was luckier than most in the money department. His allowance was ridiculous, even according to him, as long as he kept his grades up. He hadn’t wanted Bobby or Luke to feel bad about their birthday offerings, a new necklace and red flannel that Reggie put on immediately. They were thoughtful, and Reggie glowed at the mere affection the guys gave him. Actual presents didn’t matter that much to him.

“No! I don’t need more presents, Alex,” Reggie whines, but he’s smiling bashfully. “Today was rad, and dinner was _so_ good.” Reggie barely got warm meals at home unless they came out of the microwave. The last minute dinner invitation was a good idea. 

“Too bad, birthday boy.” Alex grins and flattens himself onto the floor to reach under his bed. He ditches his drum sticks and pulls out a large box, sliding it over towards his nightstand where Reggie sat with him.

The bassist eyes the box silently but jumps into action when Alex gives him an impatient look. Reggie slides the ribbon off the corners, struggling a little with how tight it was. Alex is a super-efficient gift wrapper. He considers it a talent.

“Holy shit,” Reggie’s tone turns gentle as he touches his present in awe.

It’s a leather jacket, the exact one he had eyed at a shop while they roamed down the strip the week after New Year’s. Reggie had stopped to stare at it, halting the boys on the sidewalk. It was displayed on a mannequin in the glass window of a store Alex knew Reggie couldn’t afford. He knew he wouldn’t even walk in there. The material was crisp and stark against the white of the display figure. The minimalist rivets and zippers sparkled in the afternoon sunlight. 

“I would look like a badass in that,” Reggie had insisted dreamily, chewing on the straw in his soda. He paced the length of the window to get a glimpse at the back of the jacket where the mannequin twisted into a fashionable pose. 

“Yeah, sans the ‘bad,’” Alex had snickered. Bobby thought it was a good one. Luke elbowed him hard enough to make him drop his corndog.

“I’d be offended if I knew what ‘sans’ meant.” Reggie had dismissed Alex’s attitude, his eyes never leaving the mannequin.

Reggie had mentioned that jacket on and off for months afterwards. He wanted to be a rebel, excitedly chattering on about the Sex Pistols and the Ramones and their choice of wardrobe. For every sleeve Luke cut off of his shirts, Reggie ripped a hole through his jeans. 

Alex used the money his relatives gave him for the holidays to buy the jacket six days after Reggie said he wanted it the first time.

“Are you gonna try it on, or are you gonna keep it in the box forever?” Alex chuckles and waves his hands at Reggie to get the boy out of his trance.

He jumps up, bumping the nightstand like a bull in a china shop, and winces as he rights Alex’s wobbling lamp. He lifts the box gingerly onto the bed and takes out the jacket with more care than a doctor cradling a newborn. The first thing he does is inhale deeply to smell the leather. Honestly, Alex had done the same. The scent was gentle. The fabric had been treated well by the maker. The price tag was worth it. 

Reggie slides his arms into the jacket, smiling the entire time. He bites his lip and hums when he finds the sleeves are the perfect length, no adjustments needed. 

“How does it look?” Reggie twirls slowly with his arms out, making the fabric of the red flannel tied around his waist sway across his legs.

And Alex’s brain just decides to stop working.

Because Reggie was _hot._

Not cute. Not adorable.

Hot.

He was all dark hair, light complexion, pouty lips, and _that jacket._

“Is it bad?” Reggie’s face scrunches up as he looks down at himself. Alex hadn’t said anything. 

“No!” Alex actually yells. Thank god his parents couldn’t hear them. He takes a deep breath and digs his fingers into the carpet beneath him. “I mean, you look great, man.” That came out much better. 

“Thanks!” Reggie beams and rotates again.

He plays with the chain attached to the zipper near his chest and keeps twisting his arms around and around to see the fabric. He stretches his hands to the sky to test out the hem length. His white t-shirt rides up his stomach, revealing a line of pale skin right at Alex’s eye line.

Why the fuck was he noticing that?

“Like, really, though. _Thank you_ , Alex. This is so nice. Too nice. Are you sure—“

“Don’t, please.” Alex holds up his hand and clears his throat. He’s still sitting on the floor. His ass is numb. “It’s all yours, Reggie. It’s your birthday. You deserve nice things.” He means that from the bottom of his heart, even though he’s not quite sure what the hell his heart is doing to him right now. What a traitor.

“Thanks,” Reggie whispers it then and tugs Alex off the ground with scary strength. The kid hugs him like a koala bear on tree limb, but Alex doesn’t know if that’s why he can’t breathe.

“We could listen to the tape, if you want?” Alex mumbles into Reggie’s neck. Fuck, he smells like leather now. Leather and honeysuckle. Alex gets nauseous with it.

“Awesome!” Reggie says it simply, like Alex wasn’t in the middle of a crisis. He’s proud. He must be covering it better than he thinks. Luke might have noticed, or even Bobby, but Reggie was oblivious at most times. Alex was so grateful. He can’t feel his face, though. Is he at least smiling? 

Reggie puts in the _Buddha_ cassette, and by the end of the night he has the bass line of “Carousel” memorized and Alex finds enough of his chill to start learning the drum beats in “Time.” He had begun to feel more like himself, sure that his sudden change of view on Reggie was just caused by the newness of the jacket on his body. It was just something different to see, like other guys watching girls in a bathing suit. Good looking was good looking. Fuck teenage hormones. 

He was okay, Alex decides. There was a rational explanation. The gears in his brain were functioning again. 

But then Reggie announces he’s wearing the jacket to bed—“I’m never, ever, ever taking it off”—and throws himself down under the covers in his usual spot beside the drummer.

Alex smells the leather again as the blankets settle over them after Reggie’s dramatic landing. He feels a zipper tickle the small hairs on his forearm while Reggie snuggles in and shut his eyes. His pillows were going to keep the scent. Alex thinks about throwing them in the trash.

“Thanks again…" Reggie slurs. "Best birthday ever." He keeps his eyes shut, but the blush is evident on his cheeks even in the dim room. “I love you, buddy.”

“Love you, too, Reg,” Alex answers robotically, intensely studying Reggie’s face for the answers to questions he can’t quite articulate. Reggie drifts off quickly, his lips parting in soft breaths.

Alex doesn’t sleep at all that night.


	2. The Problem

Alex decides that he is not okay. He’s so far from okay that he’d have to take a plane to get there.

He’s also decided that Reggie’s eyes are too green. The black leather he refuses to remove from his body makes them pop into a pretty jade color. Alex also decides he hates himself for knowing how to use the word “pop” in relation to fashion. He’s so, so gay.

He has a crush on _Reggie_. He’s out of control.

This was Reggie. The same Reggie who got his hand stuck in a saxophone during music class. The same Reggie who saved his ice cream first and his ass second during an earthquake in the eighth grade. He was not crush-material. Alex decided that years ago.

When he had accepted that he liked boys, he had picked his friends carefully. He didn’t want to be the “homo” guys talked about in the locker room when someone’s curious eyes wandered. He made a mistake falling for Luke, and he kissed Bobby once on a dare, but he was vigilant, damn it. Luke wasn’t his fault—the boy had yanked him out of the closet by the scruff of his neck—and Bobby was just Bobby. He tasted like the cigarettes he promised Luke he had stopped smoking when they went cold turkey together. Those were lapses in judgement, miscalculations as Alex tried to figure out what he wanted.

Reggie left no room for errors. He was Alex’s favorite friend. Reggie was dependable and hilarious and often senseless. Alex was always a step ahead of him. He gave him the most control. Reggie was safe.

Well, he _had_ been. Now being near Reggie had become like navigating a minefield. 

Alex is taking a break from the warzone. He’s sitting in the green room at the rear of the club they were going to play in that night. Bobby had scored them the gig. It was a seedy spot hosting a bunch of rowdy college students, but money was money and the exposure would be good. Reggie is out of sight, bouncing around the front of the building with Bobby, marketing for the band. That means handing out merchandise and chatting up girls. It bothers Alex more than it should. It bothers him that it bothers him at all, frankly. 

The energy in the building has Luke giddy, though. He’s resting cross-legged on top of the coffee table in front of the sofa Alex has claimed. The singer’s humming the opening notes to “Now or Never” and tapping a beat on his knees.

He’s been going at it by himself for about half of the song before he stops. Alex hadn’t joined in. He’s staring at the drumsticks in his lap.

“What’s wrong with you?” Luke leans forward. 

“I’m gay, I fell asleep in church this morning, and I failed my French quiz last week,” Alex lists off dryly. He doesn’t look up at Luke. The conversation is heading towards not-casual and he had almost zoned out enough to relax without Reggie near him.

“Okay, first of all, being gay is not _wrong_ ,” Luke chastises him with a pointed look. Alex just rolls his eyes. He doesn’t want to hear it. “And church, well, church is super boring. Can’t help you there,” Luke keeps going, unsure, “but I could help you study for French?”

“You don’t even know English that well.”

“See, _that’s_ what I’m talking about.” Luke pokes him in the chest. “You’ve been mean lately.”

Alright, that may have been a little true. He hasn’t been himself. He’s been a guy who like-likes Reggie. He’s not sleeping more than a couple hours a week. When he tries, he dreams of slim hands and sharp teeth and black draped over gentle shoulders. He keeps his head down during practice. He never stares too long, afraid of what he’ll discover about himself next.

“I’m just tired.” Alex shrugs, offering nothing more. Luke doesn’t settle for it.

“You only ever act like a special kind of asshole when you’re stressed,” Luke muses. He taps his finger against his chin.

Alex doesn’t want him to solve his problems because he has none, thank you. Reggie’s not a problem. He’s just an inconvenience. The attraction will pass. Reggie will do something asinine soon enough and Alex will remember who he really is. The crush will die if Alex is patient.

“Are you seeing somebody new?”

_Oh, god._ Luke didn’t get enough credit for being so observant. 

“I don’t like anybody.” Alex shuts his eyes and tilts his head back. If he falls asleep, maybe Luke will leave him alone.

“Is it your parents? Did they find out—“

“Luke, I’m fine. I told you, I’m tired. I’ve been in my head too much. That’s all.” It wasn’t a lie. “Sorry if I’ve been weird.” Alex looks at Luke then. He gives him what he hopes is a decent imitation of the boy’s own puppy-dog eyes.

“You overthink everything.” Luke softens, and Alex is forgiven. “It’s basically why we broke up.” Luke says it nonchalantly. There’s no hurt there, but Alex still feels attacked. “You’re a very emotional person.”

“I’m a _thoughtful_ person.”

“That’s exactly what I said.” Luke stands and ruffles Alex’s hair. “You’re our little genius, Alex.” He’s undeterred by Alex swatting at his wrist as he grabs the side of his neck. “Sometimes, though, you just gotta go with the flow. Whatever you’ve been worrying over will work itself out.” Luke sounds sure enough for the both of them. His optimism is contagious, and Alex is smiling.

But then his nightmare is busting into the room.

“The crowd is amped out there! It’s gonna be an awesome show.” Reggie steps right onto the coffee table Luke had sat on—he’s clearly learned his lack of respect for furniture from the boy—and plops his body down onto the sofa next to Alex. “What were you guys talking about?” Reggie settles right against Alex’s shoulder and observes Luke leaning into the drummer’s space with a hand on the side of his throat.

“We’re just reminiscing about the greatest love story ever told.” Luke smirks and makes a kissing noise at Alex before pushing away.

“More like a horror story,” Alex deadpans. His voice is tight. He can’t inhale with Reggie so close. He picks at one of the holes in his jean jacket. 

“Aw, don’t be like that, Lex,” Reggie coos and slings his arm around his back. Alex stiffens and sways away from him, but he really has nowhere to go unless he wants to crawl over the arm of the sofa. The thing is suddenly very fucking small. “Luke’s a real catch.” Reggie’s arm was warm and secure. He held Alex in one hand and his bass in the other.

“He’s average, really,” Alex dismisses him, trying not to breathe too deeply with the leather around him like a vice. He refuses to look at Reggie. He’d only get sucked right into the green.

“Please, I gave you the best month of your life.” Luke hops up onto the vanity on the far wall with his songbook.

Why hadn’t Alex sat there? Reggie is hugging his body tightly against his own. It was supposed to be comfortable. It was always comfortable before—in the era Alex names “Pre-Jacket.” But now Alex’s skin is too hot. His airway tightens. An inconvenient crush was one thing, but it would become a different beast if it started stealing away things Alex needed. 

Luke’s right. He’s got to chill out.

“It wasn’t that big of a deal,” Alex replies on autopilot.

“’Not that big of a deal,’” Luke mocks him, using his teeth to uncap the pen he had tucked in his notebook. “I was your first kiss, Alexander, and I rocked your world,” he insists, the pen pointing accusingly at Alex before Luke abandons him to write down whatever lyric was popping into his head.

“Was he really that good?”

Reggie’s breath is hot on his cheek. He reeks of mint. He had chewed four pieces of gum on the way to the club. Bobby insisted it helped reel in the ladies. Alex knew he didn’t have an expert opinion to offer of his own, but it sounded dumb at the time. Now he thinks Reggie smells nice. Like green ice cream and stupid, stupid leather. 

“Good at what?” He wasn’t focusing. 

“Kissing,” Reggie clarifies, and suddenly it was just the two of them, and Alex gets caught in the trap.

Shit. He looked him in the eye. He wasn’t supposed to do that. They were too close. He had to look down to see Reggie’s mouth, which he shouldn’t have been looking at anyway.

Did he mention how aggravatingly small the sofa was?

“Luke’s kissing was, uh…” Alex’s tongue goes dry. Maybe Bobby still had a piece of gum. “He was—“ he glances at Luke to make sure he isn’t looking. _“He was great.”_ Alex mouths the words with no volume, and Reggie looks impressed for his friend. 

Alex wasn’t going to admit it to Luke, but he remembers their time super fondly. They were all passion and exploration, but they never felt any difference between the adrenaline of performing and creating together and the intensity of hand jobs in the janitor’s closet. It was exciting and _awesome_ , but it wasn’t enough. No matter how emotionally stunted Luke could be, he was a romantic at heart. He wanted something more, and Alex… Well, Alex never quite knows exactly what he wants. He knew for sure, though: sex was their couple-thing, and love was their family-thing. Together, they just didn’t mix.

Maybe Alex could get past his new affection for Reggie, too. Not that he was in love with him, or thinking about sex. No way. It was just an infatuation, like the one Alex had developed for Zach Morris in middle school when he watched too much TV. That passed, too. It helped when _Saved by the Bell_ went off the air, and he wasn’t going to cancel Reggie, but he’d figure it out. 

“Luke was, like, a six out of ten,” Alex speaks louder for Luke to hear. He feels like playing a little. He feels more like himself. 

His head’s clearer now. He’s got a goal. Calm down. Stop overthinking. Let the world spin for a while without him clinging so hard to the ground. 

“A six?!” Luke bellows. He throws his pen in Alex’s direction. It hits Reggie in the leg. He still didn’t move his arm, though. “A fuckin’ six?!” Luke’s voice raises a few octaves as he slides off the vanity and stomps across the room.

Alex giggles, his lungs finally working at full strength, when Luke yanks him off the sofa and out of Reggie’s hold. He tackles him to the questionably sticky floor. Reggie yelps and holds his bass high to keep it out of the swing zone of Alex’s kicking legs.

“A fuckin’ six,” Luke is mumbling, but they’re both laughing, and he’s tickling Alex.

“Tickle fight!” Reggie was never one to be left out.

Bobby finds them all in a pile, cackling like the children they are. Alex feels the zippers of Reggie’s jacket scratch the back of his hands and the leather slide along the stretch of his neck when he reaches around him to jab at Luke’s ribs, but Alex is coping. He couldn’t see the vibrant color of Reggie’s eyes through the burning tears in his own. 

Alex only makes it an hour, high on friendship, before he’s back in the hole he dug himself. Reggie plays flawlessly all night. The curved embellishments on his jacket glimmer in the stage lights. The sweat on his skin shines even more as he dances around fearlessly. He’s pure energy, pure _sex_ in leather and skinny jeans, crooning into the mic and flipping his damp hair. The cocoons that had infested Alex’s stomach burst, and he tries to throw up the butterflies later in the alley after the show. He blames it on the alcohol he doesn’t actually drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! 
> 
> Please leave a comment if you have any thoughts :)
> 
> As always, I’m on [tumblr under the same name](https://lynnymars.tumblr.com/) if anybody wants to chat. 
> 
> I’ve added a few chapters to this story. It’s going to be a little longer than I originally thought. Please subscribe if you don’t want to miss the next update. It should be within the week.
> 
> -Lynn


	3. Downpour

It all gets so much worse—if that’s even possible—when Alex discovers it’s not just the jacket triggering his meltdowns. 

They’re at the beach. Alex is trying to socialize more so he doesn’t have Luke in his business. He’s still been irritable, even to his own ears, but he’s trying. Summer had officially ended the day before. They’d started junior year a few weeks prior, but he got lucky with his schedule. He only had one class alone with Reggie. 

That was the new rule. No alone-time with Reggie. Distractions were key. He goes to practice and plays shows and does his homework. He sticks to a routine. 

Alex started the day in a decent mood. He’s been sleeping better. He’s been counting sheep. Sometimes he ends up counting mannequins wearing leather jackets. Whatever works. 

But then Reggie shows up to the beach wearing swim shorts and a white t-shirt and that damn jacket. He’s been serious about keeping it on forever. It’s so ridiculous and so Reggie that Alex tried to make fun of him for it—maybe if he teased him enough, he’d actually give Alex a break—but Alex gave up after only a few quips. His heart wasn’t really in it. His brain has decided that Reggie’s obsession is cute instead of weird. 

He’s so far off the rails that he even agrees to look after the jacket while Reggie and Luke play in the water. Alex hadn’t really had a choice. Reggie had asked with a dimpled smile as he was taking his shirt off. Alex answered quickly with two hands out for the jacket just so he didn’t have to look at a half-naked Reggie too long. 

It turns out that it’s not the jacket’s fault—not entirely. It’s just  _ Reggie _ . It’s his laugh when Luke shoves him in the ocean. It’s his wild limbs and tousled hair when he emerges for a deep breath. Alex watches him distractedly, petting the jacket in his lap like a fucking cat. He studies Reggie as if he can finally come up with a solution to his problem. He’s chewed on his obsession for months. It was like licking the sore spot after you bite the inside of your cheek. You should leave it alone to heal, but Alex keeps prodding and poking at it, and it only ever gets worse. 

“When are you gonna crush on me?” Bobby’s suddenly beside him in the sand. 

“What?” First of all, he had barely been paying attention. Second of all, what kind of question was that? 

“You got all cozy with Lukey, and now you’re making eyes at Reginald. When’s it my turn?” Bobby’s smirking and Alex would have smashed his stupid face into the beach if he hadn’t been tasked with babysitting the jacket. 

“I’m not making  _ eyes _ , Bobby,” Alex insists. He’s one muscle twitch from sticking his tongue out at the guitarist. 

He’s being petulant, he knows, but screw Bobby very much for being perceptive. Alex had been so worried that Luke would notice that he hadn’t considered Bobby might actually pay attention to someone other than himself for once. 

“The sun is just bright,” Alex adds. It’s a solid argument. He squints for dramatic effect. 

“It’s about to rain.”

Fuck. Where did the clouds come from?

“They probably snuck up on you while you  _ weren’t _ eyeballing Reggie.” Bobby smirks. 

Oh, Alex had said that out loud. 

“Shut up, Bobby.” Alex has to get him off the Alex-likes-Reggie train. It’s not a fun ride. “I’m not looking at Reggie like that. I was—“

“Chill, man. It’s cool.” Bobby waves his hand through the air, and Alex doesn’t understand what was so cool about any of this. “I’m not going to say anything to him or Luke. It’s your business. I’m just here to give you shit about it.” 

Alex isn’t very reassured. 

“But, whether you’re into our man Reggie or not, you might wanna tuck that jacket away before it rains,” and Bobby keeps that annoying know-it-all smirk—that was Alex’s thing, thank you very much—and Alex hops up from the sand with a squeal. 

He scrambles for the bag they brought the towels in and gracefully folds the jacket to fit into it just as the first raindrops fall onto his bare back. Bobby laughs the whole time. 

“Hey, you saved my jacket!” Reggie, all wet and shiny, appears with Luke. “Thanks, Alex.” He says it all soft and sweet, and Alex is proud of himself for moving fast enough. 

He plops down into the sand, breathless, and watches a few splotches of rain hit the lenses of his sunglasses. The sky is gray right above them. The horizon is still bright blue across the water. Luke’s head pops into view. 

“We’re gonna run up to the pier and get some hotdogs. You hungry?”

“Yeah, Alex. You want a  _ hotdog _ ?” Bobby creeps in at his other shoulder and wiggles his eyebrows. He cackles at his own lame innuendo while he and a confused Luke stumble out of view. 

Alex stays put in the sand on his back and raises both middle fingers into the air. 

“What’s that all about?”

Oh, shit. Reggie stayed. He’s lying right beside him under the rain. Alex should have left with the guys. He twists in the sand to see if he can catch up to them. They’re too far away for it not to look weird. Alex still kind of wants to run. 

“He knows what he did.” 

They lay in an uncomfortable—for Alex—silence. The guys wouldn’t be gone too long, right?

“Alex, can I ask you a question?”

Fuck. 

Be cool. 

“You just did.” Alex pushes his sunglasses into his hair and dares to look at Reggie, who rolls his eyes fondly. 

“Are you into someone new? Luke said—“ 

“Why is everyone so interested in my love life?” Alex snaps. He sounds like a jerk. He knows it, but concern is the last thing he needs. What he actually needs is shittier friends. 

“You’ve been—You’re more…” Reggie trails off, looking nervous. He draws a bass clef in the damp sand between them. “Is it me?”

Alex sits up so fast that his sunglasses fall off and into his lap. If Bobby noticed, then maybe Reggie could see through him, too. Had he been more obvious than he thought?

“Are you mad at me? Did I do something?” 

_ No, it’s just that you exist. _

“Why would you think that?” Alex isn’t going to step on any mines in the field if he can help it. 

“We haven’t hung out, like, all summer.” The erratic rain collects on Reggie’s cheek bones and flows down to drip off of his jaw. He’s frowning. 

“I’m always with you.” Alex’s voice relaxes, but he squeezes his sunglasses tightly in one hand. 

“ _ We _ haven’t hung out, though.” Reggie bites his lip and Alex tries not to stare. He’s absurdly pretty. “Just you and me,” the boy adds with less volume, and he looks gloomier than the sky above. 

It’s confirmed: Alex is the biggest asshole to ever walk the earth. 

He’s been avoiding Reggie, yes, but now his friend  _ knows it. _ He  _ hurt  _ Reggie.

Before the jacket debacle, it was so often the two of them paired up. They sat together during classes. Reggie would do dumb shit like make “art” with the gum under the desks, and Alex would pretend for a minute or so that he disapproved before he’d use his pencil to push complimentary colors together. Alex always shared his lunch when Reggie showed up with none and tried to make him believe that he wasn’t hungry. They worked on riffs for songs together when Luke was too deeply buried in his notebook and Bobby was running fashionably late for rehearsal. Reggie stayed the night with Alex whenever home got too loud or too violent for him. 

Alex only has the one class with Reggie now, and it’s easy to focus on the lecture rather than him. He’d hush him if he spoke too often, pretending he cared more about nouns and verbs than Reggie’s whispered breath in his ear. He still pushed his lunch trays in Reggie’s direction, but now it was usually without looking at him. He kept Bobby and/or Luke between them at the table. Alex had gone so low as to wait outside in the bushes before practice if it was only Reggie in the garage before everyone else. Reggie hadn’t been to his place since his birthday. Alex had kept making excuses until he realized Reggie didn’t even need them. He would never actually ask for help. Alex was just always the one to offer so he wouldn’t have to. 

God, he misses Reggie, and he’s been so wrapped up in his own drama that he hadn’t noticed Reggie missed  _ him. _ He feels like he’s finally tumbling down the cliff he’s been teetering on the edge of for months. 

He has to do better. Reggie  _ deserves _ better. 

“Fuck, Reggie. I’m sorry. It’s not you. It’s me.” Okay that was lame.  _ Try harder _ . “It’s… It’s gay stuff.” It’s true—very true. It doesn’t feel like enough, but Reggie laughs, so maybe it is.

“You can talk to me about anything, man.” 

He really can’t. He  _ used  _ to be able to. Alex feels like he’s grieving something he didn’t know died, but Reggie is  _ right there _ . He didn’t lose him yet. 

“I know. I was being stupid.” Alex fiddles with the sunglasses in his hands. He presses so hard that he bends one of the earpieces. “There’s a lot of strange shit going on in my head because—because of what I am…”

“ _ Who _ you are,” Reggie interrupts. “Being gay isn’t some sickness, dude. You’re just Alex.” He touches Alex’s shoulder. His hand is warm and they are both slippery, but Reggie squeezes his bicep securely. He blinks the rain off of his lashes. Alex stares. He doesn’t feel as scared as he usually would. “And, I think Alex is pretty great.” 

Reggie winks with an entire half of his face and Alex’s heart swells like a helium balloon. It tries to drift up his throat. 

“And you’re sure that I didn’t do anything to set you off, right?” Reggie gets shifty again. His hand falls off of Alex’s shoulder. “I know I can be needy or weird or annoying or stup—“ Alex grabs Reggie’s fallen hand. 

He hates those words, hates that Reggie’s heard them at home or from assholes that Alex, Bobby, or Luke have punched in the face.

“You’ve never, ever been any of those things,” Alex assures him. He squeezes Reggie’s hand so tightly that his own knuckles burn. Reggie’s face evens out again, the despair Alex caused melting away. Reggie made it too easy. Alex deserves so much more punishment. “I’ve missed you,” he adds for good measure. He doesn’t let go of Reggie’s hand, but he does loosen his hold a bit. He had to have been hurting the bassist by now with the vice grip. 

Reggie’s brilliant smile makes the ache in his hand travel to his ribcage. 

“Thank god!” Reggie yells and flies back into the sand beneath them. “I missed you, too,” he adds. It’s not nearly as loud, and he’s looking up at Alex with a shy smile. He didn’t let go of his hand either. “Was it a secret summer romance?” Reggie’s eyebrow curls upward. His smile turns conspiratorial. 

“Was what  _ what _ ?” Alex tries to focus while settling back down next to Reggie, their fingers still curled together. The rain starts to dissipate. He doesn’t bother putting his bent sunglasses back on. 

“The ‘gay’ stuff,” Reggie clarifies with a snort. 

“Oh, something like that.” It was actually a one-sided romance that’s been plaguing him for more than the summer, but the answer would do. 

“It didn’t work out?” Reggie’s too good for him to call a friend. He looks so apologetic for something he has no control over. 

“It couldn’t,” Alex decides. He feels a little lighter. The sun starts to warm him up, too. His heart is beating at a normal rhythm, and Reggie’s hand is a familiar and comfortable weight in his. The beach is mostly empty. The rain scared everyone away. 

“Relationships seem hella complicated,” Reggie laments. Alex laughs. 

“You’re not wrong there, buddy.”

“How did you know Luke liked you?” Reggie flails in the wet sand until he’s on his side. He digs an elbow in and looks down at Alex.

“He kissed me.” Alex feels an excitement dare to creep in. It feels reckless. It’s foolish, but Reggie’s line of questioning makes him tense in all the fun ways. “Why do you ask?” He pushes the wet hair off of his face, glances at their joined hands, and licks his lips. He’s stupid enough to let himself hope— 

“There’s this girl in our English class…”

Alex’s mouth goes dry. He wants to pout, but he keeps his face perfectly steady. 

He’ll be a good friend now. 

He’ll cry about it in his room later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed the update :) 
> 
> Please leave a comment if you have any thoughts! 
> 
> As always, I’m on [tumblr under the same name](https://lynnymars.tumblr.com/) if anybody wants to chat. 
> 
> The next chapter should be up within the week. 
> 
> -Lynn


	4. Hand In Hand

So, Reggie’s into Elizabeth —“ call me Lizzie”—Allen from their English class. He “like likes” her, he claims. The worst part? She seems to like him back. 

Alex’s disappointment is immeasurable. He knows because he tried to quantify it to see if he cared too much. There were graphs made. He used crayons and everything. He’s not proud. 

In class, Reggie’s moved one seat in front of Alex so he can be next to her. He yanks their desks together every day. Reggie says she smells like tulips. Alex thinks she smells like an overcrowded green house. He’s going to hate flowers for the rest of his life just because of her perfume. She flips her blonde hair in his direction every time Reggie says something goofy and adorable, which is always, obviously, and she giggles in a soft melodic tone while the teacher lectures about  _ The Catcher in the Rye _ . Alex has snapped three pencils this week watching them flirt. 

He breaks a fourth on Friday morning when Reggie slides a note to Elizabeth. He wasn’t stalking every move they made, necessarily, but he was tall, okay? He could read over Elizabeth’s perfume-infused shoulder easily. 

_ “Will you go to Homecoming with me? Check ‘yes’ or ‘no’” _

Reggie’s written the words in multiple colors and there’s a happy smiley face near the “yes” and a frowny face near the “no.” Alex can’t mince words. He’s insanely jealous. He snaps that fourth pencil and sinks down in his chair until his back hurts. He plants his feet firmly on the ground so that he wouldn’t physically grab Reggie’s desk and drag it away from Elizabeth. 

She checks the “yes” with a pop of her gum, and Alex bitterly hopes she knows how lucky she is. He doesn’t think she does, though, not if her flirting with other guys in Chemistry and Gym indicates anything, but it’s none of Alex’s business. Reggie reads the note and makes a little cheering sound. Mrs. Sanders freezes at the blackboard and turns to scowl at Reggie. He raises his hands in apology, but the smile doesn’t leave his face as she turns back to her lecture. 

Alex gives Reggie a thumbs-up when he spins in his seat and waves the note. He’s definitely going to have to give Reggie all of his lunch today. He’s feeling nauseous. He’ll hide it, though. It’s fine. 

Alex has been a great friend again, if he does say so himself. He’s back to his old ways, staying close to Reggie. It’s a sweet torture. Pre-jacket Alex loves it. Post-jacket Alex goes to bed with a headache every night from the mental hurdles he jumps all day to stay normal around Reggie. It’s worth it, though. Reggie doesn’t seem sad anymore. 

Reggie asks to copy the notes from class, of course—he wasn’t paying attention to anything but “Lizzie” for the full hour—so they wind up at Alex’s that night. His parents are out to dinner, so Alex orders a pizza. It’s mostly for Reggie. Alex is still not willing to put much in his stomach. There’s a green-eyed monster swatting at the butterflies in there. It’s a battlefield. 

“You  wanna look at my notes about themes first? Or we can start with a basic summary of —“

Reggie slaps Alex’s notebook out of his hands. 

“I don’t care about Holden Caulfield,” Reggie declares. He kicks the pizza box on the floor to the side and gets into Alex’s space. He grabs the arms of his desk chair and wheels him forward. Alex can smell the red  Kool-aid on Reggie’s breath. “I need to ask you for a favor.” He says it so seriously—like, help-me-bury-a-body serious. 

Alex is going to say “yes.” He’ll probably regret it, though, whatever it is he’s actually agreeing to do. 

“I need you to teach me how to dance.” 

Fine, not as bad as he was expecting, but still confusing and a little scary. 

“You know how to dance. You dance all the time.” Alex knew that. He always watched him. He made fun of him and acted like it was painful to see, but he watched. 

“No, dude,” Reggie whines and seizes him by the front of his pink tee with both hands, “I need you to teach me to slow dance. Like I would with a girl.” Reggie’s voice goes softer, more nervous. Alex thinks he’s going to start fidgeting with the rings on his fingers, but his fists stay curled up against Alex’s chest. That wasn’t helping him think. He was going to have to  _ hold _ Reggie. 

“Uh,” Alex clears his throat. That was eloquent. “Why don’t you ask Luke?” There, that was reasonable. Maybe he’d worm his way out of this. 

“Because this is serious business, Alex!” Reggie dislodges from Alex’s jacket to run his hand through his hair. Alex can breathe a little better again. “Luke is just  gonna make jokes the whole time. I know this because I asked him first and we ended up dancing to Sir Mix-a-Lot. I learned nothing.”

Okay, that was hilarious, but it also stung. Reggie didn’t come to him first. He went to Luke. But he had just suggested that himself, so his brain really needed to shut the fuck up. This jealously thing was not cute. 

“I want Lizzie to be impressed. She’s the first girl that might actually —“ Reggie stops, his voice goes quiet and then he is playing with his hands. “I want her to like me.”

“She already likes you.” Alex knows. He wouldn’t hate her so much if she didn’t. 

“I want her to like me enough to stick around.” Reggie sits on the edge of his bed, and Alex’s heart aches so painfully for his friend that he has to sigh to get the pressure in his chest to release. 

“If I do this,” Alex begins and stops to glare at Reggie when the boy perks up in excitement, “ _ If _ I do this,” he repeats, pointing at Reggie, “you can’t tell Luke. He’s just gonna snitch to Bobby, and those two don’t need any more ammo to give me hell.” 

“I promise!” Reggie smiles that adorable smile and raises his right hand. “This will just be a Reggie-and-Alex secret.” 

Well, that makes him feel special. 

“Alright.” Alex stands and claps his hands together, staring at the ceiling so he could take a breather from Reggie’s face. 

“Music!” Reggie cheers. He’s so bubbly about this. Alex thinks he might throw up the almost-nothing in his gut, but he owes Reggie, like, four months’ worth of yeses. 

Reggie strides over to Alex’s impressive collection of cassettes and runs his fingers along the racks neatly attached to the walls. Alex has déjà vu, thinking of Reggie’s birthday night. He thought he’d feel better by now, thought he’d be over it, but his feelings have just gotten more complicated, and Reggie has just gotten more and more appealing, jacket or not. Alex feels a little nostalgic. Maybe they could listen to  _ Buddha _ again if he makes it through the dance lesson. 

“Got it,” Reggie mumbles and skips—actually  _ skips— _ over to the boom box on the shelf above the desk. It looks like he’s forgotten all of the cassettes and has chosen a CD instead. 

“Good choice,” Alex’s voice raises several embarrassing octaves when “No Doubt About It” by Neal McCoy starts echoing gently throughout the room. Reggie jams a few of the buttons on the player, probably setting it to repeat. 

Of course, Reggie picks a country song, and, of course, to Alex’s dismay, it’s also a love song. What did he think they were going to slow dance too? Maybe he should have just talked Reggie into believing Sir Mix-a-Lot  _ was _ an appropriate choice. With the right spin, he’d believe it. It would be funny, and Elizabeth would probably hate it.

Reggie looks focused as he removes his leather jacket. He folds it neatly and lays it at the foot of the bed. 

“Ready when you are, coach.” He puts his hands on his own hips and stares at Alex. 

Okay, fine. He can’t let Reggie down. 

“Uh, alright. Bring it in.” He opens his arms for Reggie, who comes to him easily. 

Alex hesitates to close the distance between them completely. He kind of wishes Reggie kept his jacket on. At least then there would be an excuse for the hammering in his chest. 

“You don’t have to do this if you’re —“

“ _ NopeI’mGood _ ,” Alex rushes it out in one syllable at a pitch even Luke couldn’t match and clutches the sides of Reggie’s white shirt. “It’s all good,” he tells himself and Reggie. “Just, uh,” he unclenches his fingers from the fabric, “make sure I’m the best man at yours and Lizzie’s wedding.” It’s a joke, but it still hurts like he’s losing Reggie. 

“You’ll have to share the honor with Luke.” They’re just standing there holding each other. Alex doesn’t rush to do anything else. 

“What about Bobby?”

“Bobby’s  gonna be the flower girl,” Reggie teases, and Alex feels a tad more relaxed. “You know what you’re doing, and you’re taller. You should lead.”

Oh, right. They were supposed to dance. Alex’s brain is swimming in molasses. He’s trying think about all of the church functions he was forced to dance at, but Reggie’s shirt feels really nice on his palms. 

“What if you’re dancing with a tall girl?” Alex licks his lips. 

“I’d probably just let them lead.” Reggie places his  hands on Alex’s elbows and shrugs indifferently. 

“Fine,” Alex whispers and moves their limbs around. 

He puts Reggie’s left hand on top of his shoulder and his own right hand on the boy’s side. Their other hands come together easily, like the day on the beach, and he holds them up to the height of Reggie’s chin. 

“You don’t have to make it too complicated. You can just  kinda sway and step from side to side.” Alex is still whispering. He can’t seem to find his voice, but Reggie is standing close enough to hear him over the music. 

_ “Like a hammer and a nail, socks and shoes _

_ We go hand in hand, like a rhythm and blues” _

Neal McCoy’s voice bounces gingerly around the room as Alex guides them in a small, slow circle. Reggie is focused on their feet. His grip is tight on Alex’s clavicle. Alex is glad Reggie’s not looking back at him because he can’t stop staring.

Reggie looks beautiful and determined, and Alex is annoyed. He’s annoyed at himself and annoyed at the world because he should get to enjoy this more. 

Other teenagers can dance with their crush and relish in it. They get to assume the other’s intentions. One has a dick and the other has a vagina, and they both know where they stand. Alex is constantly worried. He’s worried about what people will think and about what people will think he’s thinking. From the start, he was even worried about his own friends thinking he’d look at them differently, which turns out was 66.666% of what happened, and Alex loathes himself for it. Maybe Bobby  _ would _ be next. Yuck. 

He wishes he could just learn to be straight. That life seems less complicated. Reggie likes a girl, so he flirts and she flirts back. No one is getting called a slur or getting kicked in the ribs or having an existential crisis. 

“What if —“ Reggie pauses when Alex flinches out of the  zone he had buried himself in. “What if my arm gets tired?” Reggie glances at their joined hands with a shy smile. 

“Um, you can…” Alex looks Reggie in the eye. “Here, put your arms around my neck.”

Reggie does, and they are suddenly very, very close. They’re not leaving any room for God. He thinks of every girl he was ever forced to dance with bitterly. Everything Alex is doing is probably against every single rule he’s ever been taught. It’s against all of the rules he’s even given himself. And you know what? He’s kind of enjoying it, and he kind of doesn’t care anymore. 

McCoy sings his support:

_ “Something was missing, it was making me blue _

_ But all I ever needed was you” _

Reggie’s wrists are hot against the sides of his neck. Alex slides his hands completely around his friend’s waist until his fingertips touch together at his lower back. They are chest to chest now, and Alex doesn’t feel scared. He sways to the music, letting Reggie set the pace. 

“How am I doing?” Reggie’s the one whispering now. His breath is thick against Alex’s jaw. 

“You’re perfect, Reg.” 

Alex murmurs the next few lines of the song into Reggie’s cheek. 

_ “You’re the one I’m dreaming of  _

_ Got to have your love, can’t live without it _

_ We were meant to be together _

_ No doubt about it” _

Alex thinks that he’s left his body because he feels nothing like he should. No fear. No anxiety or uncertainty. He just feels Reggie, solid and constant against him from head to toe. Their lips were one deep breath away from touching when Reggie turns his head towards him. 

This is so, so much more than a crush. 

It took way too long for him to understand it. And Alex thought he was the smart one. 

“Alex?” 

Alex hums and pulls away just enough to stare into those green eyes, but then his gaze is right back on Reggie’s mouth. He can’t seem to help himself. All of his rules are forgotten. He’ll die in the minefield. It would be worth it. 

“’Lex, are you  gonna —“

_ “Alexander!” _

Things did blow up, just not how Alex expected.

His mother stands in his door, which he doesn’t remember hearing open, and there’s a laundry basket dropped at her feet. Alex and Reggie cling to each other. Alex is startled and fuzzy-headed. Reggie’s hold is comforting, but his mother  _ sees _ him. She’s truly looking at him for the first time, and he feels like a dead frog sliced open and pinned down for examination in Biology. 

“You —“ she tries and stops, and then she starts to cry. “You’re —“

She can’t say it. Alex kind of wants her to, so he doesn’t have to. Instead, she gestures loosely at Reggie, who tries to step away, but Alex won’t let him go. He doesn’t want to do this alone. 

But then he doesn’t know if he’s going to have to do it at all because his mother is turning on her heel and going back up the stairs. Stomping up them, really. 

“What’s she doing?” 

He lets Reggie pull away. His face is flushed, and Alex’s probably is, too. 

“I don’t —“ He stops. 

_ His mother is crying loudly to his father.  _

It’s happening. 

Alex braces himself and rushes for the door. He turns back when he reaches the threshold, making sure Reggie is following. The bassist is moving wildly, snatching his leather jacket up off the bed and sliding into it as they rush up the stairs to the foyer. Neal McCoy continues his crooning through the stereo, forgotten. 

“Is it true?” Alex’s dad looks furious as soon as they round the corner to the living room. Reggie bumps into Alex’s back when he stops short. 

“What?” Alex plays dumb, but it’s really all he has to offer. He’s thought of this conversation a hundred times, but this isn’t anything like he’s planned. 

“Are you a fag?” His father steps towards him and Alex steps back. Reggie’s hand is solid on his shoulder blade, but the boy looks jumpy. Reggie gets enough confrontation at home, Alex knows. He doesn’t want this for him here. 

“Dad, I’m —“

“He’s not, Richard,” his mother openly sobs, but she tries to smile. It hurts, how forced and cold it is. “It’s these  _ boys _ . The band. Their influence.” Her face turns into something so nasty Alex’s stomach flips. She points at Reggie. “Reginald’s family alone is—it’s scandalous, Alex. Everyone talks. And Robert, his parents call themselves ‘free spirits,’ but it’s just an excuse to let their son sin, and the Patterson boy?” Alex’s mom laughs, something wicked, “His  mother’s lost him already to this-this  _ lifestyle _ . I won’t have any of that for you, Alex. You just need new friends. You need new influences.”

Well, she wasn’t holding back anymore, was she? So much for Reggie being a “sweetheart.” They always welcomed him to dinner and to sleepovers with joy. But that was fake, like everything else his parents did, like everything they wanted him to be, and, fuck, Alex had actually been doing it too. He pretends all the time. Pretends to be okay, pretends to not like guys, pretends to not like Reggie. He doesn’t want to be a sham anymore. He can’t become them. 

He’s going to unlearn that shit. 

“Mom, it’s not them. It’s  _ me _ ,” he grabs her attention from Reggie, who looks absolutely reprimanded, like it’s his fault his own parents are abusive assholes, “Mom, I’m gay.”

His eyes go blurry and he blinks. He didn’t realize he was crying. He tastes the salt on his tongue, but then he tastes a sudden burst of copper and his cheek burns hot. 

Alex’s father had  _ hit  _ him, and he barely has time to comprehend it before he’s being yanked by the neck of his shirt. The front door is flung wide open. His father drags him across the patio and into the grass of the yard. His mother is crying louder than before and watching. She’s not stopping any of it. 

“You are not my son! You weren’t raised like this,” his father screams it, a declaration to their entire suburb. The sun is almost gone from the sky. All of the surrounding houses are full of families about to sit down for a nice dinner. Now most of them were moving towards the windows to watch the show. “You can come back when you —“

“You  _ asshole _ !” Reggie appears seemingly out of nowhere. Alex’s ears are still ringing, but he thinks he yelled even louder than his dad. “Fuck you!” Reggie’s voice doesn’t waiver as he  _ pushes _ Alex’s father with both hands. He shoves him hard, making the man stumble back towards the front door of the house. 

Alex stares, mouth open. He’s still crying. His face hurts. 

“And fuck you,” Reggie turns angrily to Alex’s mom, “for not defending your son!” Reggie’s voice cracks, but he’s still terrifying. Alex has never seen him this enraged, and he’s certainly never seen him violent. 

They’ve come full-circle. Reggie  _ is _ a badass. He’s all tousled hair, ripped jeans, and a leather jacket. And now he’s got a reputation for soiling Alex, the golden child. How scandalous. 

“And fuck you for watching, Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler!” Reggie turns on Alex’s neighbors. They’ve gathered on their front porch. Reggie’s panting when he whips around to look across the street. “And you,” he starts, pointing at a lady he finds peering out of her curtains, “I don’t know your name, but fuck you too!” 

Alex decides that’s enough. Reggie’s going off the rails. No matter how endearing he finds it, someone is going to call the police sooner or later. He pinches the sleeve of Reggie’s jacket and hauls him down the driveway. Reggie resists for just a moment, still scowling at Alex’s parents, but he relents easily when Alex slides his hand into his. 

They are running. Alex’s cheek aches where his father had struck him, but his tears are drying up and he finds himself  _ laughing.  _ He runs and runs and cackles at the sky, but Reggie’s not laughing along at all when they stop to catch their breath at an empty bus stop. 

“Are you okay?” Reggie dislodges their hands, and Alex misses him enough to pout, but then both of Reggie’s palms are on his face. Alex smiles again. “You’re not okay,” Reggie decides on his own. He looks at Alex like he’s lost it, and he probably has. “We should get you to Luke’s and get some ice on this.” His fingertips are gentle on the bruise blossoming on Alex’s cheek. “Maybe Emily has some frozen peas. They mold against your face better.” Reggie’s voice goes so soft Alex almost can’t hear him. “I like using those...”

And, oh, this wasn’t just about Alex’s parents. He loses his smile. 

“Reggie, it’s okay,” Alex tries, reaching up to hold both of Reggie’s wrists. 

“It’s not,” he insists. His hold on Alex’s face tightens enough to hurt a bit, but Alex keeps still. “They can’t just do that to you.” Reggie is crying more freely now. His anger and concern are overwhelmed by the sadness. “Not you,” he adds quietly and shakes Alex’s head in his grip. 

They’re both weepy messes. Alex still kind of wants to kiss him. 

“You, uh, you should probably be with Luke.” Reggie breaks away. He assumes he’s not enough, and Alex almost forgot how absurd he could be. “Come on. I’ll take you.” Reggie’s holding his hand again, and Alex squeezes it tight as they walk down the street. 

Reggie was right. Fuck anyone who watches. 

“I’m glad it was you there,” Alex mumbles. The  _ “instead of Luke” _ is left implied, and Reggie looks dubious. He watches the ground as they walk. 

“I embarrassed you.”

Alex shakes his head so fast it hurts, but he grins anyway. 

“You were hardcore, man. You told Mrs. Archer to fuck herself,” Alex giggles. “She’s, like, 90.”

Reggie appears horrified and freezes in the street. He looks back towards Alex’s road, like he might actually go apologize. 

“Don’t worry about her.” Alex pulls him back into their stroll. “Don’t worry about any of them.” He detaches their hands and slings an arm around Reggie’s shoulders, sliding right against the soothing leather. 

When they make it to Luke’s, there’s a lot of questions and a lot of anger, but Emily did have that bag of peas and his face doesn’t hurt as much when he, Luke, and Reggie all climb into bed. Alex lies in the middle, his head on Luke’s chest. Reggie is the “big spoon” wrapped tightly around him. Alex thinks it’s nice until the room goes quiet and he’s supposed to sleep. 

His brain starts to overwork and he starts sobbing—it’s like all he can do is cry—because his life has absolutely  _ imploded _ . His parents hate him. He’ll never get them back, not really, not fully. And he’s not even sure if he wants them at all anymore. What the hell is he going to do? 

“It will be better in the morning.” Reggie clenches him tighter. Luke lets him weep all over his sweatshirt. “I always feel better in the morning,” Reggie adds, the words murmured right into Alex’s hair. 

It hurts Alex that Reggie is hurt, that he’s  _ ever _ been hurt like this. He wants to be the one doing the comforting again. He doesn’t want to be broken, but he can’t even make himself speak, and the tears only flow faster. His hiccups are turning into sobs and he just lets go. He doesn’t need to do anything right now. He’s got Luke holding him up, and Reggie keeping him grounded. 

Reggie stood up to his parents for him. Reggie took care of  _ him _ . It’s such a shift in roles that he’s  dizzy —or maybe that’s just the sore face and the crying—but Alex loves him so much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one more chapter! 
> 
> I want to thank everyone who has left a comment and/or kudos so far. The feedback and interaction are really motivating. I’ve loved writing this story. I already have so many ideas for more fics to do next :) 
> 
> The final chapter should be up next weekend. 
> 
> As always, I’m on [tumblr under the same name](https://lynnymars.tumblr.com/) if anybody wants to chat. 
> 
> -Lynn


	5. No Doubt About It

When Alex wakes up, Reggie is gone but his jacket is still there. The leather is warm where it’s draped over Alex’s back. He groans as he pushes his face off of Luke’s pillow. His jaw is stiff as hell. He rolls over and rubs the fabric of Reggie’s jacket between his palms. 

“He said you needed the security blanket more than he does right now.” Luke’s voice is quiet, but Alex startles, thinking he was alone. Luke is sitting on the floor beside the bed with his songbook in his lap. The sun is bright across the page. 

“What time is it?” Alex winces and grabs his head when he sits up. He keeps the jacket tucked up to his chin like a child as he leans against the headboard. 

“Late. Dad said dinner would be in an hour or two. You’re probably hungry.” Luke sounds tense. Alex notices he’s scribbling random lines with his pen. There are no words on the page at all. 

“You’re still upset.” Alex shuts his eyes. He’s not all that tired anymore, but the jacket has him feeling cozy. 

“Why would I be upset, Alex? Your parents threw you out, and your dad pummeled your face. Those are totally happy things.” Luke’s pen rips the paper. 

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Alex begs, he clutches Reggie’s jacket to his chest and leans towards Luke. 

“Stop worrying.” Luke rolls his eyes. “I’ve been ordered to stay put. Reggie’s all bossy now,” he adds with a grin. 

“Where is he?” Alex tried not to sound desperate, but Luke’s head turns fast and curious, so he probably failed. 

“He met up with Bobby this morning. He knew your parents would be at work, so they’re borrowing Mr. Wilson’s van and getting all your stuff from your house. Bobby said it was cool with his parents if you stayed in the garage.” Luke’s staring at him keenly. Alex doesn’t know what for, and he’s pretty sure he doesn’t want to. “Reggie was real worked up, said he didn’t want you going back there.” 

Reggie really was making all the rules now. Alex was okay with that. He smiles down at the jacket in his lap. He folds the sleeves in careful creases. 

“How did they find out?” 

“What?” Alex blinks at Luke. 

“Your parents?” He’s still got that look like he’s studying Alex. If he put that much energy into his schoolwork, he probably wouldn’t argue with Emily and Mitch so much. 

“I was teaching Reggie how to slow dance,” Alex offers dismissively with a shrug. 

“I’m guessing it wasn’t to Sir Mix-a-Lot.” Luke is smirking. Alex wants to get back under the covers. 

“Reggie picked the song. It was … appropriate for the lesson,” Alex keeps his voice casual. “Mom walked in during it and misunderstood what she was seeing and ran right to Dad. Chaos ensued, Reggie screamed his lungs out at my parents and the neighbors, and you know the rest.” 

“Did she really misunderstand, or was she seeing what was right in front of her face?” Luke tilts his head and his eyes widen. Alex _does_ try to get back under the sheets when Luke bolts up and jumps in the bed with him. “You _like_ Reggie! Holy shit!” he yanks the blankets away from Alex’s face. “Were you _just_ dancing, or—“ 

“Stop it, Lucas.” Alex tries to be strict, but he betrays himself by smiling. He hasn’t had anyone to talk to about this for months. It’s his own fault, but he still feels relief. 

“Have you guys been…” Luke wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. 

“No.” Alex pushes Luke away from him by the side of the head. “It’s not like that.” 

“Then what’s it like?” Luke’s back to the curious head tilt. 

Alex shrugs and starts to fiddle with Reggie’s jacket again after he rescues it from between their bodies. 

“Oh my god, you absolute dork. _This_ has been your problem, hasn’t it?” Luke punches his shoulder hard, which was so rude. He was an abused child now, thanks. 

“I don’t have a problem.” 

“Please, you’ve had a problem for, like, ever now. Me and the guys were worried for a while,” Luke confesses, eyebrows pinching together in concern before that annoying smile creeps right back onto his face, “but we just figured you were gonna be permanently bitchy.” Alex pushes his head again. “Don’t fret. We were still going to love you, even if you were the diva of the band.” 

“Shut up,” Alex grumbles. 

“Let me guess,” Luke is undeterred by his grumpiness, “you’ve been pining after Reggie and freaking out instead of doing anything about it?” 

“Um,” is about as articulate as Alex can manage. 

“ _Ohmygod_ ,” Luke whines and shoves his own face into his pillow. “Go talk to him.” He pops up and points to the door, but Alex is comfortable, and he’s not moving. No, sir. 

Luke points harder. 

“But what if—“ 

“Just go,” Luke pleads quietly. He reaches out to hold Alex by the side of the neck. “Sometimes, Alex, things _do_ work out. Take a leap of faith. You’re not gonna lose anything by trying. Trust me. It’s Reggie. He’s not going anywhere.” Alex hates him for being so good with words. He feels persuaded. 

He takes a deep breath. 

Okay. 

“I’m really doing this,” he tells himself. “I’m doing it!” Alex leaps off the bed, jacket carefully in his possession as he rushes for the door. Luke is laughing at him, but then he goes quiet. 

“Hey...” 

Alex turns back to Luke. They stare at each other for a long moment. It feels heavy, a little final. Then Luke is smirking again. 

“Take a shower first. You smell like a homeless teenager.” 

“Asshole.” Alex rushes back in to kick him when he tries to get off of the bed. 

“Too soon?” They’re both giggling as they wrestle to the floor. 

Alex feels quite unburdened, for a homeless teen. He’s more excited than scared for his future. 

He really did need a shower, though. And he’d have to borrow clothes from Luke because, you know: homeless. 

Whatever. He has everything that matters. 

Emily forces dinner into Alex after he showers, and then he’s rushing out the door. He borrows one of Luke’s band tees—a rare one that actually has the original sleeves intact—and Luke’s bike. He speeds to the studio with Reggie’s leather jacket draped over his shoulder. 

The lights are on in Bobby’s house, but he bypasses the front porch when he hears a cymbal crash in the garage. It’s rolling to a stop on the cement floor when he passes through the open doors. Reggie’s in there by himself, bent over at Alex’s drum kit and picking up the stool he knocked over. 

“I didn’t even move in yet, and you’re already trashing the joint?” Alex stuffs his hands into the pockets of his—Luke’s—pants, smiling calmly when Reggie jumps in surprise. 

Alex should be more nervous than he is, given what he’s about to do, but he’s kind of over being anxious. Reggie had acted out of character for him. He had been loud and fearless in his defense. He _changed_ for Alex. Alex felt like changing for him too. 

“You’re here!” Reggie pops up fast, almost choking on a lollipop he’s got in his mouth. He rushes right into Alex’s space. “Are you feeling okay? How did you sleep?” He’s touching Alex’s face again. He’s doing that a lot now. Alex won’t call him out on it. He doesn’t want it to stop. 

“I’m alright, I swear.” He lets Reggie thumb at his bruised cheek. “It’s really not as bad as I thought. Guess my dad needs to hit the gym.” 

It was supposed to be funny, but Reggie looks like he might cry again. It was adorable and absurd, with a lollipop stick poking out from his lips. 

“Alex—“ 

“Here.” Alex shoves the leather jacket against Reggie’s chest. “This belongs to you.” 

Alex's hands feel empty without the jacket now. Waking up with it on him was nice, relaxing and warm. The clothing became a comfort to him instead of a burden. He hopes he can have that again, hopes he’s not about to ruin everything. 

Luke’s right, though. He's got to do this. 

“Thanks.” Reggie takes the jacket with a grin and slips it right on. “I think I got everything you need,” he says with more energy. He moves a few trash bags out of the middle of the room and pushes them under the ladder to the loft above. “Most of your clothes and, like, all of your music. The stereo, too. Bobby almost dropped it. Well, _we_ almost dropped it, but—“ 

“Can we talk?” If Alex kept letting him ramble, he was going to lose his nerve. 

  
“I don’t think you should go back.” Reggie looks stern even though his words click around the lollipop on his teeth. Alex wishes he’d stand up for _himself_ with that kind of backbone once in a while. 

“I’m not going to, Reg. I promise. Just…” he takes Reggie by the sleeve and tugs him to the couch at the opposite wall, “sit with me, please.” 

“What’s wrong?” He’s got Reggie’s attention now. He ditches his candy, almost missing the trashcan beyond the coffee table. Reggie twists in his seat, one leg curled in as he leans toward Alex. 

“Everything and nothing. I haven’t really decided, but, listen, about what happened last ni—“ 

“I am _so_ sorry for freaking out like that.” Reggie panics and starts tugging at his own fingers in his lap. “Your mom and dad were totally unfair, but I shouldn’t have touched him. Please, don’t—“ 

“I was going to kiss you!” Alex interjects with a laugh. Reggie could be so ridiculous. How couldn’t he see he was Alex’s hero? 

Reggie stops talking and just stares at Alex as if he spoke a different language. His hands have frozen, his fingers locked together. Alex takes them carefully, feeling the butterflies starting to flap around in his stomach. 

“When we were dancing,” he starts again softly, “I was—I like you, Reg…” He’s losing his bravado. He should have practiced this first. Alex is grateful Reggie isn’t running away, though. He reaches for the chain on the boy’s jacket and curls it around his palm. “I wanted to kiss you when we were dancing,” Alex tells him again, wrapping and unwrapping the chain around each hand slowly. He kind of wants to get up and pace. 

“You did?” Reggie’s voice squeaks. Alex looks up, and, of course, Reggie’s blushing. “I mean, I thought _maybe_ we were having a moment, but it could have been the song, you know? Vibes happen when people slow dance, it’s not a huge deal if—“ 

“Can I do it now?” Alex watches Reggie’s mouth the entire time he speaks. It freezes, hung open when Alex interjects. “Can I kiss you now?” he asks, more sure. He lets go of the chain and scoots closer to Reggie on the couch.

He puts his arm along the back cushion, boxing Reggie halfway in. He has an escape if he wants it. Alex hopes he doesn’t. 

Reggie’s eyes are wide and so green, and he’s taking forever to move or say anything at all. He just gapes at him, and Alex thinks maybe he’s made a huge mistake, but then Reggie’s nodding and his expression is going lax and vulnerable and trusting like when Alex had him in his arms last night. 

“Okay, if you wanna…” 

And that’s all Alex needs, because, yes, he _wants_. 

Reggie’s cheek is warm where he grabs for him, pulling him in to meet his mouth. He kisses him gently but surely, catching Reggie’s lower lip between both of his own. The boy gasps easily, opening up for him to taste him with his tongue, and Alex surges forward like he’s been starving. 

After months and months, Alex’s brain settles into absolute silence. He’s nowhere but here with Reggie, who smells like rich leather and sunshine, who tastes like cherry sugar. Reggie’s heartbeat is a persistent thud-thud-thud where Alex’s pinky finger curls under his jaw and against his throat. Alex feels born again. He’s something new, something better, now. 

It was different than it had been with Luke. When Luke had held him by the hips, when he had kissed him, it was like standing in a fire. Alex was never going to survive in it. They’d both burn up. Kissing Reggie, though, grasping the side of his jaw and sliding a hand under his jacket to squeeze at his ribs, was like seeking shelter from the cold in front of the hearth of a fireplace. It was safety and comfort. It was home. Alex could live in that forever. 

Reggie moans when Alex’s teeth graze his lip. The sound punches Alex low in the belly, and he needs to breathe. He pulls back to rest his forehead on Reggie’s, staying close enough to keep the cherry scent in his lungs. The thud-thud-thud of Reggie’s heart turns into a tap-tap-tap. Alex hears it like a song. The percussion makes him yearn for his drums. 

“Um,” Reggie laughs a little at himself, panting and disoriented, “I don’t wanna look the gift horse in the ass here—“ 

“That’s not the phrase.” Alex’s smile tickles Reggie’s chin. 

“—but what brought this on?” Reggie’s hands are fisted tightly into the shirt Alex borrowed. It’s going to wrinkle. 

Alex suddenly remembers that he doesn’t have his mom to iron it for him anymore or his dad to buy him a new wardrobe if he goes through another growth spurt. It should hurt, but it doesn’t. It doesn’t matter at all. 

What matters is his future. 

He’s going to drag Reggie’s desk against his in English class. He’s going to ask him to let “Lizzie” down easy and take him to the dance instead. He’s going to put his arm around him in the cafeteria. He’s going to share every small sofa in every green room they ever get to be in together. He’s going to lay with him on the beach every time it rains. He’s going to hold his hand in the moonlit streets again. He’s going kiss him in front of his parents’ house just so his mom and dad can see—well, maybe, if his adrenaline stays this high. He’s got plans. 

“Why me?” Reggie whispers into his mouth. 

Alex slides his palms up Reggie’s leather-clad chest and grabs at his collar. 

There were so many reasons. Alex has taken months, even years, to discover them, compile them, and he’s going to share the list with Reggie as soon as he gets tired of kissing him. For now, though, he’ll settle for the simplest explanation. 

“You look really good in this jacket.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. I’m actually getting pretty emotional about this being over. All of you that have commented and left kudos are truly awesome. You keep up my motivation to write. I hope everyone enjoyed the ending :) 
> 
> Now, on to the next! I have already posted the first chapter of my next story! It is [here if anyone is interested. It’s called “Fixation”.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28054641) It is a Reggie-centric Alex/Luke/Reggie story. 
> 
> Please, please proceed with caution! It is rated Explicit. Please read the tags before you dive in if the rating is something you are worried about. I understand that it will not be for everyone, but I’ve written most of the fic already and it’s something I’ve loved creating. Please head over there and read and comment if it is something you think you’d enjoy.
> 
> If you enjoyed this story and my writing, but Explicit fics are not for you, please know that there will be something else for you in the future. I have many more ideas planned. The next fic in line is going to be another Reggie/Alex :)
> 
> Thank you all again!
> 
> -[Lynn](https://lynnymars.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic in a very long time, but this show has been really inspiring, and the fandom here is so creative. I'm excited to start contributing here and chatting with you all! Please feel free to leave a comment below. I'm also on [tumblr under the same name](https://lynnymars.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Please feel free to come chat. I'm open to any and all pairings (and groupings). Nothing's really off limits for me. I just started with a Alex/Reggie fic because I feel like there aren't enough of them. 
> 
> Next update should be very soon! I hope you guys enjoyed this so far. -Lynn


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